I Come To The Fear of Love
by Eliza1984
Summary: Higgins and Eliza. Takes place before 'Let A Woman In Your Life.'
1. Homecoming

_I decided to pick up the pen once more. I think this will be the last piece I write on this topic. It won't be a one-shot but I don't know how long it will be. I wrote my first piece following in the example of 'Shy', but since that has now been finished, I decided I should write my own thoughts on what immediately happens after My Fair Lady ends, a gap that I have in my own story 'Let a Woman In Your Life.' The title of this comes from a Wendell Berry poem I read some years back, which is clearly anachronistic, but serves my purpose well._

Higgins sat in his armchair listening to the scratched record of her voice. Static crackled and popped from the mouth of the bronze phonograph. Strange that the voice that had once seemed like nails on a chalkboard now comforted him like a blanket. He thought of how the warmth in her eyes turned to cold steel as he professed that he enjoyed her strength of character and implored her to stay with him. He heard the click of her heels as she turned her back on him and marched away from him. And he felt the distance between them grow further until the door of his mother's house slammed and his was alone. That statue he had created had came full force with joie de vivre, as angry blood pumped through her veins. And she had lashed out at him. At first he was so angry, an anger that no woman had ever evoked from him, then the closer he came to home he panicked at the notion that his home would be sans Eliza.

She was going to marry Freddy Eynsford-Hill, that snide and pompous wallflower who would wilt in the mere presence of his consort battleship, Eliza. His battleship, he thought briefly for a moment. He thought of her presence and how he had grown so used to her as his shadow and all her idiosyncrasies; the way she poured her tea, her footsteps and the way her gowns would rustle slightly as she moved. And then he thought of her in that sniveling Eynsford-Hill boy's arms as he muddled through metered verses in her ears and Henry felt something not quite anger and not quite sadness fill his heart. The record was almost finished and he realized he had so little of her left.

'Damn stupid girl.' He muttered to himself.

Then there was a click.

"I washed my face and hands before I came, I did." The voice of a lady picked up where the sounds of a guttersnipe had finished.

He maintained composure and attempted to catch a reflection of her in the glass panes of the window, but to no avail. He could not turn around. Had this been a great play or an opera, he would have turned to her and grabbed her in his arms and pressed his lips against hers. But this was not his way. Henry Higgins had never made a spectacle of himself to any woman. Instead he stiffened his posture defensively and lowered his hat around his hopeful eyes and posed a half-hearted question about the location of his slippers, when he knew exactly where they were.

He held his breath for a sign that she was really there in the silence. Then her heard a step in his direction and the rustle of her gown. He exhaled softly. There was still no answer but he heard more steps as she crept towards him and he inhaled the fragrance from the rose scented soap she used. He waited, unable to bring himself to peek from under the brim of his hat, for what seemed like several moments before she answered.

"I do not know." He heard what sounded like tears in her voice.

He paused, forgetting what he had previously asked. "Beg your pardon?"

"I do not know where your slippers are. You took them upstairs last night, after... our words." Eliza maintained composure.

He felt her sit down on the ottoman next to him. And he exhaled again. He finally took off his hat and stared at her face. There were, indeed, tears welling in her eyes. Unsure of how to proceed, he silently wished she would leave him so that he could compose himself. Higgins was not used to being caught at any vulnerable time in his life. Come to think of it, had he ever been vulnerable before? He would have excused himself, but he was worried she might leave again, so he was compelled to sit there in awkward silence until she spoke again.

"May I come home? I have called off my engagement with Mr. Eynsford-Hill and do not have anywhere else to go."

"What about your father?" Higgins spoke and instantly regretted it.

Eliza laughed and said with Cockney inflection. "My father...is an arse."

The swear word from her demure lips made Higgins chuckle. "Well that is the most reasonable thing you've said all day. Well, your room is still vacant and though you've inconvenienced me most gravely today, I suppose you might come home." He spoke the last word with so much emphasis that Eliza smiled.

"Thank you." She mouthed with tears brimming in her eyes. In spite of herself she reached over and touched Higgins's hand briefly. He averted his eyes and muttered something about being sleepy under his breath.

She stood up and began to leave the room when he called her. "Eliza?"

"Yes?"

"I suppose I should give you some sort of socially acceptable reason for continuing to stay with me...some sort of title. It would make my mother happy, indeed."

Eliza's mouth began to drop open in shock, but Henry snapped his fingers.

"Ingenious. I need an organiser, a secretary, if you will. Very well. That is your title. I will pay you of course and you will have your room and board. That settles it. Fifteen pounds a week is your salary and you will start bright and early tomorrow morning. I'm advising some members of the French embassy tomorrow. You can take notes for me."

And with that, Higgins exited with gusto leaving a very disappointed Eliza in the door of the study. She stood for a moment and then collected her thoughts. She had thought that perhaps... She stopped herself from thinking. She was home with her professor and even though his feeling might be strictly platonic, he was hers. And she would rather be miserable with him than miserable without him.

Sighing, she went upstairs to her room and began unpacking her things.


	2. The French Don't Care What They Do

The next morning at six sharp, Higgins was awake and patrolling the study. Eliza was clearly not awake yet. He paced about, frustrated at how she continued to inconvenience him. Higgins waited until fifteen after the hour. In the haste of all the events of the past two days, he had forgotten to leave a note for the household staff that he would be awake at such an early hour. Therefore he was all alone in the study; sans coffee, sans breakfast and sans Eliza. Frustrated, he stormed up the stairs and began pounding on Eliza's door.

To his shock, she answered, still in her nightdress with hair flowing loosely around her shoulders. She stood before him for a moment sleepily, before realizing her state. She ducked behind the door.

"I thought you were Mrs. Pearce." She muttered sleepily, with roses in her cheek.

Higgins shook off the awkwardness of the moment. "No, but it doesn't matter. I need you downstairs as quickly as you can possibly..." He gestured to her flippantly. He turned abruptly and walked downstairs almost tripping over the last step.

He shook his head and muttered to himself, "Such is the penance of letting a woman in your life."

After another several moments, Eliza waltzed into the study breathless. She wore a maroon house dress with her hair piled neatly upon her head. Higgins caught a glimpse of her and momentarily wished that she would have let it remained in the locks that covered her shoulders. It was far more flattering to her face...but then he stopped his thinking immediately.

He cleared his throat and handed her a stack of papers. "I need these sorted. They have been on my desk for a week and I can't make order of it all." He walked across the room and focused his attention elsewhere. The linguists from the French Embassy would be there at noon and he had far too much work to do.

* * *

Mrs. Pearce brought breakfast to the professor promptly at ten, as he normally requested, but she nearly dropped the tray when she saw Eliza sitting there. She tried to cover her astonishment with a cough.

"Oh Eliza, you've returned. Thank heavens! We were worried."

"Quite right Mrs. Pearce. I apologise for any inconvenience I may have caused. I am back for good now."

Mrs. Pearce looked sternly at the professor. The housemaids of the other homes on Wimpole Street were constantly curious and chatting about the unmarried female in the home of a notorious bachelor, and as the Matron of the Higgins household, she felt it a chink in their armor to perpetuate any of the rumors. This did not help matters.

"Indeed." She whispered curtly towards the professor.

"Oh don't fret Mrs. Pearce, I've hired Eliza as my secretary. You can tell all the maids in the neighborhood. That should ease your concerns."

Mrs. Pearce bit her lip. "Yes sir."

She walked out of the room shaking her head.

* * *

Several members of the French Embassy, mostly a few socio-linguists interested in the class system of Modern England for purposes of international relations and a few rhetoricians who were interested in the sound of their own voices, made their way to the study of 27A Wimpole Street. Professor Higgins insisted that his company speak only in English, so that his secretary would be able to transcribe. However the French accents so muddled the clarity of the English words that Eliza found herself bored. She began to sketch in the corner of her paper when she suddenly found herself the subject of conversation.

"But who is this young lady, with no accent?" asked one older gentleman who devilishly stroked his beard.

"She is my secretary." Higgins answered slyly, sensing a challenge about to rise.

"Yes, yes, _Je sais. Mais,_ where is she from?"

Eliza began to answer but Higgins stepped in.

"Devonshire." He smirked.

"_Vous faux-parlez professeur._ She has none of the country vices in her speech."

"Well sir, what say she isn't from Devonshire? Then from where would you perceive her to originate?" Higgins was enjoying the majesty of toying with the French phonetician.

The older gentleman walked over to Eliza, who was sitting royally in her chair. He circled her like a hawk ready to scavenge a dying animal.

"The high cheek bone, the dark hair. Are you French, _mon ch__é__re_?"

"No." Eliza whispered

"_Non_?" The Frenchman seemed perplexed

"You flatter your race Monsieur Béjart. I assure you she is English in origin, now given your expertise on English dialects I welcome you to interrogate her."

Eliza looked at Henry whose eyes were sparkling like a young school boy in joviality.

M. Béjart's eyes sparkled at the thought. "Give me one half hour with her professor and I will crack her like a egg." The Frenchman around him chortled heartily.

The Professor stepped across the room to the gentleman.

"_AN_ egg." Higgins corrected him.

Eliza felt the blood rise in her cheeks. He was using her, displaying her as though she were a circus exhibition. She thought of all the lies he had made her rehearse day and night for the embassy; who her father was, where she came from, the legacy and pure aristocratic bloodlines. 'Quite an actress' Higgins had once said to her. She wished he could read her thoughts...

'I'll show you an actress' she thought to herself and with great dignity she followed M. Béjart out of the room to be interrogated. Her eyes met the professor's as she was leaving. Her glare hit him in the lower abdomen and he felt it stab its way through his body.

' I wonder what the devil she's so angry about.' He thought to himself and continued carrying on his meeting with his clientele.


	3. The Lady from Lisson Grove

Monsieur Béjart sat Eliza down in a small room near the study where the professor made his recordings. He stared at Eliza and then smiled wickedly.

"I would ask you from where you come, but you surely have been given a back story, _un simple histoire_." Béjart circled her once before sitting next to her.

"Of course." She murmured. She had grown tired of playing this charade.

"Then tell me where you originate."

Eliza looked him in the eye. "I was born in Lisson Grove in 1891 and lived in the lower points of London my entire adult life. I sold flowers to survive."

The Frenchman paused and stared hungrily at her. Then he laughed boisterously.

"Coquette! You jest."

"On me bible oath!" Eliza swore in her cockney, only to realize how crude and unnatural the words now sounded in her mouth,

The Frenchman laughed and muttered something about 'perroquet' in between his hysterics.

"A what?" Eliza asked

"A parrot, mademoiselle. I understand now, I understand. You are a mimic. He has trained you in dialects. You must be an actress. I understand. He's brilliant."

"I assure you I speak the truth."

Béjart was dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. "Your Devonshire dialect is completely untraceable. Oh he must have trained you in a hundred or more! Oh mademoiselle!" And out he ran to reveal his findings.

Eliza was astonished, and in that moment she realized how little power she had in this household. She overheard them all sharing a good laugh. Oh that stupid little Frenchman! In her anger she grabbed the nearest record and smashed it upon the table. On closer inspection, she realized she had smashed the record of her own voice, the one Higgins had been listening to the day before. She grasped at the shattered coal black pieces in front of her and began to sob.

* * *

The men departed the study. All of them clasping hands and patting each other on the back through a thick cloud of cigar smoke. Eliza crept into the room unnoticed and stood behind Higgins who was sorting through a box of chocolates on his desk. His back was turned to her but he immediately sensed her presence.

"Well, I'll say that went rather well."

"Well?" she asked dryly.

He turned and looked at her tear-streaked face and sighed in exasperation.

"Oh tosh, if you're upset because you told the truth instead of the preposterous history we created for you, don't be. The truth is far more unbelievable than the lie. As a matter of fact, that's the story we should have told them at the embassy last week. By George!" he popped a chocolate into his mouth.

Eliza threw her hands into the air still clutching the pieces of broken record. "I've had enough of being your scientific experiment. Have I not made myself perfectly clear that I abhor being your masterpiece."

Higgins threw a stack of papers on the desk "How dare you raise your voice to me after I let you crawl back to this house."

"You've no right..." she screeched

" I do so. If I want to tie you up and sell you to the circus, I will. I created you from nothing and now you are a fine lady..."

"I have ALWAYS been a lady." She dropped the pieces of the broken record at his feet.

The look in her eyes frightened him, but not for fear of personal safety. She was a few inches from him and he grew uncomfortable. He shifted his stance and defaulted to his charms that always soothed his female friends in the past.

"Of course you have been, as you say, a good girl. I didn't mean to insinuate otherwise. I merely meant that I helped to carry you over the social hurdles faced by all Britons. We are all dependent on one another, every soul."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course. How generous of you. Of course I had no part in it."

Higgins stepped towards her. "Of course you didn't you little fool. Do you think that you would have learned anything I taught you in that fine life in the gutter? Where do you think you would have ended? You couldn't have sold flowers forever, you know."

Higgins immediately regretted saying this, but not before Eliza raised her hands towards him, ready to fight. He grabbed her wrists, which threw her off balance, causing her to fall into him. He was not prepared for this. She fought for a moment and then softly stopped resisting. She began to sob quietly.

"How can you say such things? How can you..." she trailed off quietly crying.

He began to feel panic at the situation he now found himself in. He walked her over and sat her down upon the sofa and stepped away from him.

"Oh, come now. I never mean to insinuate such things, it's just that nothing makes me angrier than your insolence and ingratitude." He opened up the bottle of port on the piano and quickly downed a glass.

She stared at him. "And I detest your arrogance and stubbornness."

He handed her a glass of port but she turned it down. He sat beside her, tears still streaming.

"Are we to have the same scene every night that you stay here?"

Eliza had noted the similarities between the two arguments and she sighed. "No. I just wish..." she stopped and turned away from him.

Higgins didn't say anything for a few moments. "Well, at least you didn't hurl any slippers at me this time."

She smiled in spite of herself, still angry with him.

He felt something akin to guilt, so he lightly put his hand on her shoulder. She relaxed for a moment.

"Tomorrow morning. Same a.m.?"

She recognized the truce and the gesture that was as close to an apology as she would ever get from him.

"Yes." She whispered hoarsely and stood up.

As she opened the door, there stood the entire household staff with mouths gaped open. They had flocked upstairs to listen to the screaming match. Eliza lowered her head and walked past them up the stairs. They turned their attention to the Professor who waved his hand "Go on! Go on!"

They dispersed quickly as he slammed the door. He picked up the pieces of the broken record and felt a twinge of remorse when he saw which record she had destroyed. She knew how to wound him, even if she wasn't aware of it. He sat upon the divan and placed his face in his hands. She made him angrier than he could ever remember, so much so that it was impossible to be a man of good graces where she was concerned...

_And yet._

He collapsed into the chair and muttered under his breath, "I did not create Galatea...I created Frankenstein."


	4. Marry Freddy?

Early the next morning at around five, Colonel Pickering snuck back in the house, quietly as not to stir a soul. His afternoon at the home office had turned into a two evening poker game and fine dining extravaganza with his old friends from the regiment. Surely, he thought, no one would be awake at this early hour.

"PICKERING!" Higgins's scream startled the colonel.

He turned to face Higgins, who was already dressed.

"Where have you been? Eliza's been back for two days!"

"What?" The Colonel turned to see Miss Doolittle rush out of the study

"Oh DEAR Colonel. Have you been searching for me? Oh how terribly sorry I am to have inconvenienced you!"

Pickering gave a sigh of relief. His cover had not been blown. "Oh no trouble, I assure you!" He winked at Eliza who gave him a bright smile.

The Colonel began to tiptoe upstairs but Higgins stopped him. "Leaving already? I've got far too much work to do. I was thinking of writing a how-to narrative on our exploits and I wanted to run a few ideas by you."

The Colonel shook his head. "I fear that searching for Miss Doolittle has me quite fatigued. Perhaps some other evening then?"

Higgins sighed. "Well I guess if you must. By the way I'm very surprised you didn't think to call here to make sure she hadn't returned."

Higgins glared at Pickering in a way that made the Colonel realize that he was well aware that he had been enjoying leisurely pleasures instead of work. The Colonel covered his astonishment with a cough and headed upstairs before Higgins could ask any more questions.

* * *

The next few days went by in deadly dull fashion, but Eliza became more cheerful and the professor began to ease his behaviors around her. It was as though their spats (plural) had never occurred. She found time to take long walks through the streets, noting the differences in the way people treated her. Had she gone into any of the shops before Higgins had gotten a hold of her they would have ran her out promptly. Now the shopkeepers welcomed her openly. How unfair it seemed to be judged by appearances. Perhaps this was the social hurdle Higgins was attempting to combat, and in a way this made Eliza understand and begrudgingly respect his efforts where she had been concerned.

One day as Higgins and Pickering sat playing chess, Eliza grabbed her gloves and hat from atop the nearby piano.

"Where are you going?" Pickering asked.

"I am in desperate need of fresh air." She said, pinning her hat to her hair with gusto.

"I dare say you won't find much of that in London, not with these factories, my dear." Pickering muttered.

Higgins rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure it would be any better in India with all its ports."

Eliza began to leave the two their discussions of commerce when the Professor stopped her.

"Actually Eliza. I may join you for the stroll. I've already severely beaten Pickering whether he'll admit it or not. I took his queen within the first three moves. And you call yourself a military man." Higgins joked jovially.

"I have not yet begun to fight good sir. I'll wager you anything..."

Higgins smirked. "Save our game Pick and I'll return promptly."

He followed Eliza to the door and grabbed his coat from the peg in the front hall. He extended his arm to her and she took it and they walked into the stroll. The air was brisk for an April day, with a damp chill and no visible sun. Eliza shivered a bit and wished she brought a coat with her.

Sensing this, Higgins sighed and muttered, "Oh here!" and he thrust his coat towards her.

Eliza smiled at him and accepted it, though the size of the trench dwarfed her fine figure. Soon Higgins began to chill.

"Would you care for the return of your coat?" she said with a smirk.

"Oh no, you keep it. A little chill is good for the lungs."

Eliza smiled at his brass attempt at chivalry and buried herself in the warm tweed that smelled of his cigars.

They walked throughout the streets and past the markets without speaking a word to one another. Finally as they rounded a corner past a small pub, they heard a loud voice calling her name.

"ELIZA!"

They both turned to see Freddy, clearly intoxicated in the middle of the day, holding his arms out.

"Darling!" he cried again.

"Freddy, please." Eliza whispered

His whimpers were drawing a large crowd of spectators. He walked to her.

"My dear Eliza." He kissed her hand. The smell of scotch on his breath made Eliza turn in disgust. He then turned his attention to Higgins.

"You! You stole her from me."

"Stole her? That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard. She's not cattle and for your information, Eliza came home of her own accord." Higgins straightened his collar in frustration.

"Home. What home did she come back to? And you did steal her! You wooed her with your impressive vocabulary. Tell me, do you plan on marrying Eliza?" Freddy pointed an accusative finger towards the professor.

Higgins paused as if realizing for the first time how the relationship between pupil and teacher appeared to the outside world. He said nothing.

"You see darling. He doesn't love you and I do. He's a blackguard and he's used you abominably ill."

Higgins sighed. "Oh what a fool you are Eynsford-Hill. What do you know of love that you didn't learn from some silly novel you found on your mother's nightstand? No love is ever worth making a spectacle of yourself as you are now. Eliza's not going to leave with you. She has given you an answer. Now run along home before you damage your masculinity any more."

With this, Freddy lunged towards Higgins, but in his drunken stupor fell face first onto the pavement. The crowd of spectators roared with laughter and mockery. Eliza cast a look towards Higgins and to his surprise walked over quickly to kneel beside Freddy. His nose was bloody and his pride was damaged.

"I'll take you home. Come along Freddy." She whispered to him. Eliza called for a taxi as he draped his arm around her neck. Higgins realized he would be left behind if he did not follow and he trailed her slowly behind in frustration.

The three piled into a taxi. Eliza slowly removed the coat she had been wearing and handed it back to Higgins. She then instructed Freddy to lay his head in her lap. Higgins found this shocking, but said nothing as Eliza stroked Freddy's brow and whispered words of comfort. Higgins began to feel a twinge of something resembling jealously, but he stared out of the taxi window for the rest of the ride.

After a painfully long ride to Hampton Court, Eliza stirred Freddy and helped him out of the taxi. They walked to the front door. Higgins watched closely from the car as Eliza spoke to Freddy for several minutes. Eventually Freddy bowed his head and nodded. Eliza touched his shoulder gently and walked back to the Taxi.

Higgins noticed the red splotches upon her pale blue gown. "You've blood on you dress."

Eliza nodded. "From Freddy. He was bleeding, that's why I gave you back your coat. We'll see what Mrs. Pearce can do about it. But if it's ruined, it's just a gown."

She sighed and collapsed into the seat across from Higgins.

He sighed and then slapped the seat in frustration. "Woman, ever since I have met you, I've experienced more trauma than one ever should."

Their eyes met and Eliza smiled. "Sorry to have inconvenienced you."

Higgins felt uncomfortable and changed the subject. "So what did you say to that simpleton?"

Eliza glanced at the professor and blushed a deep crimson red.

"Oh never mind I suppose it really isn't important." Higgins waved his hand.

She exhaled. "Perhaps I will tell you one day."

He felt baffled, but said nothing more. They rode back to Wimpole Street in silence.


	5. The Enthralling Fun of Overhauling You

The next morning, Higgins awoke with a start and a throbbing migraine. He had been dreaming of Eliza and the reality of this hit him as he awoke. He pondered for a moment and retraced the steps of his dream. He had dreamed of her as she had been early that morning in her dressing gown with her hair cascading around her shoulders, still sleepy. In his dream he had walked towards and stood facing her and to his surprise, he had taken her hand.

"Are you leaving again?" he had asked her.

She said nothing for a moment, and then nodded her head in the affirmative. "Freddy loves me and maybe he'll make me happier than my betters who bully me and don't want me."

"Bully you? I've never heard such..."

There was a pause and Higgins stepped away to consider what she had said. It truly made more sense for Eliza to marry Freddy. Yet, he felt something so deeply stir within him, and he turned to address her in his dream, but could not find something to say.

"I'm sorry Henry." She whispered

And then he awoke feeling more frustrated than he thought was humanly possible. He leapt out of bed and marched downstairs in his robe and slippers.

"_She called me Henry."_ He thought to himself.

He walked into the study where he found Eliza watering an oft-neglected ivy plant that hung in the study window. She turned and beamed at him.

"Good morning Professor. Did you sleep well?"

He felt some of the tension drain from his neck as she addressed him with his formal title.

"Not at all. I have a blistering headache."

Eliza left the room and returned promptly with a hot water bottle. She handed it to him and walked back towards the plant, whistling a merry tune under her breath. He watched her as she handled the leaves of the ivy in the manner that she had learned at Covent Garden, gently and affectionately.

"You seem in good spirits this morning?" Higgins muttered, still annoyed.

Eliza shrugged. "I suppose. It's beautiful outside for the first time in months."

There were a few moments of silence as Higgins continued to watch her work through the study. Finally, he realized what he must do to return things to order in his household. He finally spoke.

"May I speak candidly, Eliza?"

She stopped and looked toward him, amused. "Since when have you ever asked permission to do so?"

Higgins ignored her snide comment and continued.

"Eliza, I've begun to realize the implications of having an un-married woman in my household and the discomfort that it is causing. Especially, Mrs. Pearce. I fear she might have a stroke at any moment from the strain."

She sat across from him on the divan and looked at him.

"I believe it would be best for everyone if you moved into my mother's home and served her as a lady in waiting, if you will."

Eliza looked crest-fallen and sunk backwards into the cushions. He felt confused by her expression.

"You'll still be paid of course."

She looked up at him. "That wasn't my concern, professor."

"Well, the colonel and I will come and visit often. And my mother is very fond of you."

Eliza fought back tears.

"Yes, of course. Whatever you think is best." She stood up and straightened her dress.

Higgins stood up as well, happy to be absolved of any wrong doings. "Well, I will telephone mother promptly. Now have you seen my address book, Eliza?"

She felt behind the cushion where he had previously been sitting and sure enough, it was there. She handed it to him.

"Oh, of course. Thank you Eliza."

She nodded and wondered how he would be able to find anything on his own.

And so plans were set into motion. Mrs. Higgins was thrilled to take on Eliza as an attendant and even threw in an elevation in pay. So the household began packing and transporting her things to Large Lady Park, to her new residence. Meanwhile Eliza sat and thought about all the things she had said and done over the course of her brief stay and wondered what exactly she had done to be sent away. She was silent the rest of the day and as she was escorted to the front door, birdcage and hat box in hand, only the Colonel came down the stairs to bid her farewell, with promises of visits. She smiled politely and stepped into the waiting taxi.

Had she looked up whilst in the street, she would have noticed the tall figure standing in her former room, watching her as she left.


	6. There's Something More I'm Feeling

Eliza spent the first few days of her separation playing through the previous week in her head, trying to figure out what had led Higgins to send her away. She could recall nothing in her behavior that would have led to her dimissal.

She was content to stay with Mrs. Higgins. She really was a kindly old lady who cared for Eliza dearly. Eliza had been hired as her companion, to help her tend her plants and to read to her, as many elder ladies often hired women in those days. So she made an honest attempt to be happy with her new station. Eliza was now an independelty wealthy, newly educated lady and there was nothing that should defer her happines. Not her father. Not Freddy.

Not him.

And the days stretched out until a month had passed. The professor stopped by occasionally for tea in order to see his mother. Eliza would frequently take tea with them, but there was an awkwardness in the air and he scarcely spoke to her, except to ponder the location of a missing item. Eventually she began to avoid his visits, in an effort to hide the atrocious pain she felt whenever she saw him.

One warm day, Eliza sat in the garden with Mrs. Higgins, as the matron plucked a needlepoint. She cleared her throat and asked Eliza a very personal question.

"My dear, Why did you refuse young Eynsford-Hill? He's a very handsome boy and I'm sure he could have made you very comfortable."

Eliza looked stunned. She had never expected to have to divulge her personal feelings towards any one. After a moment of repose, she responded "I simply don't harbour the same tenacity of feeling towards him that he possessed."

It was an educated and balanced response and Eliza prided herself on her fair answer.

"Well, that's fair Eliza. You're very lucky. In my day women really had no say in the matter."

Eliza sighed. "Yes, well thank heavens for that. I don't want to be simply comfortable."

Mrs. Higgins thought for a brief moment before she finally decided to address the elephant in the room. "I know he cares for you dear. It may be in his way. But he cares."

And she touched Eliza's hand so tenderly that they both knew that the 'he' in question was not Freddy. Eliza's heart began to race. She had so many questions. Her first instinct was to deny Mrs. Higgins's brazen assumption, but instead, she relented.

"How did you know?"

Mrs. Higgins chuckled. "I am a great judge of human behavior, Eliza. When you are as old as I, you will learn to observe them for yourself. You both have the distinction of being the most stubborn and independent people I have ever known, but you both need each other. It may not be the love of the poets, Eliza, but it is love."

Eliza exhaled. The truth was in the air and she felt relieved that the secret was no longer weighing upon her heart.

Mrs. Higgins clucked her tongue, "My dear, you have the most unfortunate taste in men."

Eliza coyly replied "I suppose it's for the best that I remain un-married."

The two women shared a much needed laugh.


	7. With Their Anxious Little Hands

Eliza began to finally grow content as time soothed her wounds. She passed her time by taking care of Mrs. Higgins, reading all the books in the library (she grew very fond of Jane Austen, though later she would find out that Henry referred to her writings as 'bon-bons for the brain), and she continued to keep the garden looking lovely when Mrs. Higgins's hands wouldn't allow her to do so.

Her 22nd birthday came and went without much notice or spectacle. The colonel sent her flowers and Mrs. Higgins bought her a new gown. That day the professor came to tea, but as it turned out, he hadn't realized that it was Eliza's birthday. He grumbled and left the house, eventually returning with a small package. He tossed it upon the table and grumbled an inaudible 'Happy Birthday' in her general direction. He threw himself upon the small chair in the corner and twiddled his thumbs.

Mrs. Higgins sniggered, "Really, my dear son, for one who has a vast knowledge of the English language, you certainly do muddle your way through the blandest of colloquialisms."

Higgins crossed his arms and remained silent.

Eliza smiled as she eagerly unwrapped the brown paper, carefully loosening the twine to reveal a small handkerchief stitched with violets. They were her flowers, the very ones she sold in Covent. She doubted Higgins had realized this when making the purchase, but all the same, she was touched.

"Thank you Professor. That was very kind of you." She said with the exact intonation he had taught her months before.

He looked over his shoulder, meeting eyes with her. She looked genuinely happy and content with his present. Eliza's eyes glistened. He must have touched something in her, but what? He couldn't remember why exactly violets reminded him of her, nor did he care to hypothesize. He waved his hand.

"Oh you silly girl, it's just a small birthday gift."

He abruptly turned around and stared at the wall.

Later that evening, back at 27A Wimpole Street, Mrs. Pearce decided to investigate loud crashing noises that came from the study. She tapped lightly on the door before opening it to reveal the professor, standing amongst piles of unturned drawers, his hair ruffled and his tie undone. He was clearly searching for something in the rubble.

"Oh! Thank Heavens, Mrs. Pearce. I simply cannot find any notes from last month's lecture on rhetoric that I gave at Oxford."

Mrs. Pearce shrugged. "I'm sorry, sir. I have been engaged with the household staff. Perhaps you should contact Eliza…."

"Damn it all! I don't need her," He shouted unusually loudly, "I've gotten on fine without her these past 46 years."

Realizing his tone, he paused and shook his head. "Oh no matter, I'll find them tomorrow."

Mrs. Pearce quietly exited out of the room, contemplating giving her notice of intent to leave. Higgins rubbed his temples vigorously and decided to leave his mess until the morning. He went to the piano and poured himself a glass of port. He pulled a cigar out of a box upon his desk and quickly began searching for a match to light it with, but to no avail. He walked out into the hall and spotted a pack upon the top of the fireplace. He began to walk over towards it when he noticed something nearby that sparkled. He walked closer and what he found astonished him.

_Her ring._

It must have been there since the night after the ball, which under normal circumstances would have given him cause to complain about the cleaning staff's performance. Instead he felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. Much the same as he had felt that night when she had handed the ring back to him in her fury.

He picked it up and looked at it, almost dropping it as if it the touch of it had burned his skin. He turned it over in his palm, allowing it to collect the light. He started to put it back upon the mantle, but unwilling to part with it, dropped it into the pocket of his coat. He looked around to make sure no one had seen him, took another sip of his port and walked up the stairs to go to bed.


	8. Yes, But She's Gone, Damn It

The professor attempted to carry on with his business, but found his organisational skills lacking. His irritation stemmed from the fact, or so he told himself, that Eliza had coddled him until he had quite forgotten how to conduct himself. He attempted to acquire the assistance of some of his students, but he had no patience with them and quickly dismissed the majority of them. Only the truly devoted remained under his vigilant watch.

Finally, one sleepless night at three am, with an impending visit by a professor emeritus, Higgins found his nerves raw and his stomach aching in an ulceric fashion. Several of his students, though previously dismissed or bullied, remained by Higgins's side to help him prepare. The housemaids ran around attempting the paradox of cleaning without throwing anything away. The study at 27A Wimpole Street resembled an ant hill.

Higgins walked over and began to berate one of the students who had mistakenly transcribed a section of a manuscript in Bell's visible speech as opposed to Broad Romic.

"I've told you before that this vowel sound is more accurately represented. It's a diphthong …."

He stopped as he saw one of the house maids carrying a flower pot.

"Stop! What are you doing with that plant?"

The house maid stopped sharp in her tracks. She was carrying a browning ivy plant. Eliza's ivy, the very one she had watered and kept alive all those months.

"It's dead, sir." She said sheepishly

Higgins paused and the let out an exasperated sigh. He motioned for the plant. "Oh, give it here."

He took a long look around the room and then grabbed the dead plant from the maid. He turned around angrily and began walking towards the door, stopping to grab his coat.

Mrs. Pearce followed him to the door in haste "Oh sir! Where are you going? It's three in the morning. You can't go out in the middle of the night like this."

Turning around, still clutching the dead plant in his hand he spoke boisterously. "I need to fetch the only person who knows what she's doing!"

He flung the door open with great panache and started into the street. A moment later he returned and met the eyes of his staff and students. He sighed.

"But first, I'm going to need a car. Mrs. Pearce?"

"Immediately sir." She shook her head.


	9. The Trace of Something in the Air

(This isn't quite the end. I am just posting this because I am having my wisdom teeth cut out tomorrow and am stressing majorly. SO it may be the last post for a few days.)

The banging on Mrs. Higgins's door awoke the entire household. The butler answered the door out of breath, followed by the head mistress. They had both been awake and both had been in a hall closet as to not be discovered. The last thing they had expected was a knock that early in the morning interrupting their rendezvous. As he opened the door, he was shocked to see Mrs. Higgins's arrogant and boisterous son standing on the stoop and carrying a dead ivy plant.

"Professor Higgins?" the Butler looked stunned.

"Of course. Where is my mother?"

The head mistress stepped forward "Your mother has retired for the evening."

"Well, wake her then. It's a matter of extreme importance." He snapped his fingers.

They needed not to wake her; she came rushing down the stairs, tying her night robes, convinced something was terribly amiss. "What's all this? Is everything quite alright? It's four in the morning!"

"I need Eliza!" Henry crossed his arms like a child who had lost his favorite toy.

Mrs. Higgins snickered. "Yes dear, I already knew that."

Higgins did not catch his mother's snide remark for at that moment Eliza had rushed down the stairs in her robe, hair disheveled, looking baffled. At that moment Higgins pointed an accusatory finger in her direction.

"You!"

"Me?" she responded in a sleepy daze.

"Come with me."

She started to turn around to head back up the stairs to dress, but he interrupted her. "NOW!"

She sighed, exchanged a glance with Mrs. Higgins and followed him into the garden. Eliza stood in the doorway momentarily as he paced back and forth frantically before admitting the truth.

"I want you to come home." He said finally.

Eliza walked towards him angrily, "What?"

He sighed, "I need your help. No one knows what they are doing. Mrs. Pearce can only organise the household staff, Pickering keeps disappearing to play cards with his friends at the home office. I can't find anything, my students are incompetent, and my plant died." He dropped the plant on the table in front of her.

Eliza briefly touched the dead leaves before speaking "What sort of string do you think you have me tied to that you can pull me around in such a manner? You can't just walk in here and demand I come home each and every time you need me and then throw me out the second you no longer want me. I finally am happy. Please leave me be, leave me be or I'll…"

"You'll what?" Higgins asked bewildered.

With desperation, Eliza angrily shoved the flower pot into the floor. The porcelain broke into pieces and soil went everywhere. It gave a satisfying crack, effectively silencing the two. Higgins looked stunned, but not before he noticed that she had cut her finger. He sighed and took a handkerchief from his pocket to wrap her cut.

He walked towards her and took her hand in his and pressed her finger to stop the bleeding, chuckling. "You shrew, must you always throw things at me?"

She was still agitated with him, but had calmed herself considerably. She looked directly into his laughing eyes. "You twist me around. You make me angrier than I have ever been in my entire life. Let me be. I could kill you, you brute, for all your kindness."

Eliza continued to talk. Perhaps it was the way she stood before him as though dressed for the conjugal bed. Maybe it was the moonlight that reflected across the room, but Henry Higgins would never again be able to explain what happened next, though he would claim in following years that in desperation he ran out of alternatives to quiet her. So he did the only thing he knew would work with an irrational female.

He kissed her.

Towering over her as he held her bleeding hand, while she protested his treatment of her, they both paused momentarily. He leaned towards her slowly. Eliza stopped in mid-sentence and exhaled and closed her eyes, allowing him permission to press his lips against hers, softly at first. Then, as if the sensation was more pleasurable then either of them had expected, they deepened their kiss. She threw her arms around his neck and he pulled her closer to him, realizing he very much enjoyed the feeling of her body so close to his, more than he would like to admit.

It was over in an instant. He released his hold on her and stepped back, coming to grips with the realisation that he had crossed the line. Eliza stared at him speechless and nervously pulled her dressing gown tighter around her nightdress. A moment passed before Henry spoke again.

"If I had known all along that was all it took to shut you up, I would have done it months ago."

Eliza rolled her eyes. "What am I to come back for?" she whispered

He looked confused.

"All the reasons you gave me for making me leave will still be present tomorrow. And in your inconsistency, suppose you decide you don't need me any longer. Must I return here?"

Higgins paced in frustration. He hadn't anticipated on renegotiating his relationship with her tonight, but as he looked at her he realised that she would not budge until she received some sort of satisfaction in regards to her station. But she had the distinction of being the only female he had never been able to manipulate.

No she wasn't like the others at all.

"You could stay here and work for me, but that's a damn inconvenience."

She smirked. "Well I wouldn't want to inconvenience you, sir. But it appears that's all I do."

He rubbed his temples. "Damn it. I'm not the marrying sort. You might be, but I've no patience for anyone. I like my life neatly compartmentalised. You're demanding and you require far too much attention and petting. If I wanted that, I'd buy a cat."

Eliza stepped towards him. "And what about your arrogance and your temper? Do you think it is easy for any of the rest of the world to listen to you?"

Higgins stopped pacing and glared at her for a moment, then continued his walking waltz around the room. To busy herself Eliza began picking up the shards of porcelain that still remained in the floor.

"For your information, sir, I never mentioned marriage. That was entirely your doing." She pointed out with a smile in her voice

He watched her delicately pick up the mess and he began to feel uneasy. He was compelled to tell her how he was feeling; that he was confused, how he both missed her and dreaded the inconvenience of having her in his life, how he couldn't find anything around the house without her. But something stopped him. It was the same emotion that prevented him from running to her the day she had returned to Wimpole Street. He expected she was already well aware of all these things as she seemed to know him better than anyone. Henry Higgins never made of spectacle of himself for any woman.

"Well then, I don't see any way around it then."

Eliza stopped. "Around what?"

"Marriage." He replied.

She dropped all the porcelain she had progressed in picking up. "Don't you tease me."

"Oh Tosh! I don't tease. I hate that word. It's vulgar and crude."

She cautiously walked towards him.

He continued, "I suppose I'm saying we must get married"

"I can't marry you!"

"And why not?" he asked, almost insulted

"Because…." But she found herself unable to give him a reason.

"I…."

"Yes?" she whispered

"I need you." His pride took a massive blow, but he spoke the truth, finally saying what he had known somehow all along.

Eliza exhaled and took his hand.

"So you'll come home and help me? I have a visiting dignitary scheduled at my house in less than 5 hours and no clue where to find my dialect notebook. I can't remember the last time I used it."

Eliza smiled and he looked stunned as she placed her hand inside the side pocket of his coat. Within a second she pulled out the brown leather notebook to which he referred.

"How did you…"

"It's where you placed it the night we met, right after you had taken down my words."

Higgins quickly opened the book and ascertained from his scribbles in Bell's visible speech the very conversation to which she referred. He scanned it, and then looked upon her tender face smiling up at him. He started to feel some sort of emotion show on his face and he attempted to cover it quickly. But Eliza saw it in his eyes as he masked it with annoyance.

"I can't believe such foul utterances came from such fine lips."

Those fine lips curved into a smile and he relented, pulling her close to him and allowing himself to place his arms around her small frame. Sunlight filled the room as day began to break. Had either of them looked up, they would have noticed Mrs. Higgins standing in the doorway, hands clasped together and her mouth in a broad smile. She had swung by in that second to make sure everything was in order, and had stumbled upon this rare moment of tenderness from her son. The irony was very clear, and she was sure in his literary expertise Henry could have appreciated it; He had turned Eliza into a princess, but Eliza in turn had turned him into a prince. Well, as much as a prince as he would ever be anyhow. She turned around quickly, leaving the two young lovers in their sweet embrace.


End file.
